What I Want
by wherethelightis
Summary: Early season 3. Rory realizes Dean’s not what she wants. Rory and Jess. Oneshot.


**summary. **Early season 3. Rory realizes Dean's not what she wants. Rory and Jess.

**disclaimer. **Only my brilliant, wickedly charming ideas, of course. XD

**author's note. **Enjoy.

**What I Want**

The bells jingled on the door as she quietly stepped inside.

"We're closed," he called, his back to the door as he fiddled with the toaster.

"I was hoping you could make an exception," she replied, halting at the door.

He turned around slowly at the sound of her voice. It was tight and uncomfortable sounding; something was wrong. He searched her face for a sign, but she hadn't been crying, and other than her slightly tense appearance, she looked normal.

"Of course," he finally answered, setting a mug down on the counter and filling it with coffee before she even asked for it. He hated how well he knew her.

"Thanks," she said, sitting down carefully on a stool. She picked up the mug with both hands, as though afraid one of her hands would be too weak by itself, and sipped daintily.

He finished with the toaster and resumed his duty of wiping down the counter. Watching her eyes dart into the kitchen and then to the stairs leading up to the apartment, he answered her unspoken question. "Luke's not here."

"Oh." She spoke softly, barely a whisper. Something was wrong. After a moment, she spoke again. "Where is he?"

"Liz needed him. He won't be back until tomorrow." She could see the slight flicker in the strong defense his eyes normally held, and knew. Liz hadn't needed _him_.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled quietly, staring down at the cup of coffee in her hands.

"Don't be." He shrugged, knowing what she was talking about. "That's just the way it is."

Impulsively, she reached out and grabbed his hand. The gesture clearly startled him, but instead of drawing it away as she had feared he would, he laced his fingers with hers. He reminded himself that it was a rash action; it meant nothing. She still had Dean. Any second now she would remember that and let go, begging him not to tell anyone just as she always did.

But, much to his surprise, she didn't. Instead, she said, "It doesn't have to be that way. You… you don't have to be this strong. I don't know how you do it; you're the only person I know who could possibly live like this…" She trailed off, worried about his response.

"Like what?" he prompted, an unsure idea of the answer in his mind.

"Keeping it all bottled up inside. You don't talk to anyone about it. You know…" she paused, and then took a deep breath and continued, "You know that you can always talk to me." Her eyes darted back down to her now empty coffee mug.

He shook his head. "We both know that's not true," he said coldly, dropping her hand and picking up her mug. "More coffee?" Before she could answer he had filled it up and replaced it on the counter.

And she knew that he was right. Everyone would frown on him confiding in her – Luke, Lorelai, _Dean_… A lump formed in her throat as she realized that the thought that she was the only one who could protect him had just been a dream, a fantasy. Because really, she couldn't help him any better than anyone else.

"Rory?" he asked softly, all the previous bitterness gone from his voice. She didn't realize that she had been crying until he traced his thumb lightly across her cheekbone, wiping away a tear.

And that tore her apart. Sobs began to wrack her body and she covered her face with her hands, disgusted with herself for letting him see her like this – a helpless mess.

"Hey," he said, his voice more gentle than she had ever heard it before, "come here." It wasn't said as a command, but to comfort her. He took her hand and led her shaking form around the counter.

Immediately, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in the crook of his neck. The thought of embarrassment no longer consumed one single spot in her mind, and she stood there, holding him just to keep standing.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on hers, glad that he had shut the blinds just before she had arrived, or else they would have been on display for all of Stars Hollow to see – including Dean.

_Dean_. Fuck. He couldn't do this. No matter how innocent or friendly this was, Dean would read something into it. And she would be the one to get hurt.

He slowly and reluctantly let his arms hang at his sides. At the loss, she clung to him even more closely, even though by now her sobbing had subsided.

"Rory…"

"No." Her lips moved against his neck as she spoke, and it took all of his strength to take her wrists in his hands and lower them down to her sides.

Slowly, she straightened up, wiping her tearstained face on her sleeve. "Jess," she said, almost pleadingly.

"We can't… we can't do this. Nothing that ever happens between us ends up right. Dean will find out, and…"

"This isn't what I want!" she burst out suddenly, her eyes filled with tears threatening to fall.

He didn't understand. He looked at her for a long moment; her flushed face, her red-rimmed, puffy, bloodshot eyes, her brown hair in complete and utter dismay. "What don't you want?" he asked finally, afraid to hear the answer, because maybe it was him she didn't want.

"This!" She gestured wildly around with her hands, trying to make him understand. "This craziness between you and me and Dean, and how I can't even talk to you without being accused of cheating on my boyfriend, and how when I do cheat on my boyfriend I don't even care, and – " She stopped suddenly, clapping a hand to her mouth.

He drew a sharp intake of air, frantically trying to clear his jumbled mind. Had she really just said that? That when she had kissed him at Sookie's wedding, thus cheating on Dean, she hadn't even cared?

"You were right," she said quickly, now more flushed than ever, "We shouldn't be doing this. I'll just go and forget about all of this." She turned and grabbed her purse off of the counter, starting to head for the door.

But he was too quick for her, and too desperate for answers. Grabbing her wrist, he said, "Wait."

She spun around, a scared look in her eyes that he had only seen once before: right after the kiss at Sookie's wedding. "Jess, no, I really have to – "

"Did you mean it?" he demanded. He wouldn't let her slip away without knowing the truth.

"Mean what?" She prayed that he would pass her off as distraught and therefore not responsible for her actions.

Instead, he simply asked again. "Did you mean it, Rory?"

She took a deep breath and stepped toward him. Assured that she wasn't going to try to leave again, he let go of her wrist.

"Yes," she whispered, forcing herself to look into his eyes. Taking another step closer, she breathed in harshly. Somehow their hands had become intertwined, and he was rubbing patterns on her palm, her knuckles, her wrist – that felt so good they were clouding her vision.

"Jess…" she whispered for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. As if with a mind of its own, her free hand traveled up his arm, over his shoulder…

His grip on her hand tightened and he pulled her closer, breathing in her scent. Painstakingly, achingly slowly, he lowered his head closer and closer to hers.

"Shh," he whispered against her lips.

And then everything broke loose.

Pushing her against the counter, his hands rubbed up and down her back, massaging every inch. She responded by sliding her hands up his chest and behind his head, allowing one to rest at the nape of his neck while the other one became tangled up in his hair, and she suddenly didn't care if it ever came out. His mouth pressed hot and insistently against hers.

One of his hands moved down to hook two fingers into the belt loop at her side, his thumb leisurely caressing the small strip of skin that was exposed between the top of her pants and the bottom of her shirt.

She moaned into his mouth, and he smiled against her lips. He moved his lips from her mouth to trail soft kisses along her jaw and down her neck, then back up to nip at her ear. Gasping, she moved her lips to meet his once again.

Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against hers.

"_This_ is what I want," she whispered, and she spoke it with such conviction that he knew she meant it.


End file.
